Dark Age (9 page)

Chapter 11

“
C
onstantine, forgive him,”
Peter said in an attempt to protect me.

“The boy needs a beating,” Constantine hissed.

The common-hall turned silent. Everyone followed us outside, eager to watch a fight. Constantine’s friends finally released me as we exited the hall, violently pushing me to the ground. When I tried to get back up, Constantine kicked me in the side. My stomach contracted, while a soundless cry shot up my throat. A second kick hit me straight into my stomach, forcing part of my dinner back up.

“Leave him alone!” Peter said in a determined voice. He stepped in between my twisted body and Constantine, “You will not hurt him anymore on my watch.”

“Get out of the way kid or I have to beat your vigilance out of you,” he responded.

“Then you need to take me up too,” Stephan said stepping next to Peter. James and Nigel joined the two and helped me up to my feet.

“How heartwarming,” Constantine looked around and nodded to his friends, “Let’s get them all then.” Without a warning our three opponents jumped Peter and Stephan. With a loud thud Peter landed on the ground, barely keeping his attacker from beating his face to mush. Nigel stepped behind Peter’s attacker, and clawed his hands into his throat. The veins started to throb at his temples. Seconds before he passed out Nigel released and left him on the floor ringing for air.

At the same time, Stephan and I fought with Constantine and one of his friends. With forceful jabs they went straight for our heads. Every time Constantine aimed for me with his fist, I ducked and hit him back in the stomach. To my miscalculation it hurt me more than him. Hitting the sharp edges of his chainmail cut open my knuckles more and more after every hit.

From all sides the recruits and guards cheered both parties on. The constant shouting of the bystanders strained my nerves, costing my focus. Distracted for just a second, I found his fist right in my face. Tumbling backwards, I watched Stephan nail Constantine’s friend to the ground with a powerful blow to the chin.

The sound of steel put the whole group to silence. Constantine had drawn his sword. Our friends stepped back with their hands in the air. With slow movements and sword extended in front of him, he approached me until the steel poked my chest. In panic my eyes scanned the ground, catching glimpse of the knocked out guard at my side. Rapidly I knelt down and drew his sword, crossing it with Constantine’s.

“This is going too far,” exclaimed Peter, “stop it now!”

Before his friends could hold him, Constantine slashed out at me with an immense speed. I could see and feel the steel racing my way. My throat contracted, not letting any air in or out. I jumped back barely escaping my execution. There was no emotion in his eyes when he struck out at me again and again. With every dodge my legs got weaker. I could only evade a few more strikes before I would be too slow and lose a limb. The crowd was lined up behind me and left nowhere to back up to. Seeing no other option, I raised my weapon, blocked his attack, and interlocked our swords. Like in practice that morning, our swords crossed. With clenched teeth and blood oozing from my bleeding knuckles I tried to push against it, but was immediately out powered. Every second my sword was pushed lower and my hands started losing their grip. Suddenly the angle twisted my arms, sending a flaming pain down my biceps. My hands could no longer hold against his pressure and dropped the sword.

Frantically, I stumbled backwards avoiding his next attack. My heart beat so fast that I lost focus. After one wrong step, I lost balance and fell on my back. With cold, violent eyes he stepped over me and pressed the tip of his sword against my throat. There was no way out this time. Helplessly I closed my eyes.

“Enough,” ordered Terric approaching the group. “Everyone, go to sleep. You fools should use your energy for something better than mindless brawls. If this happens again, both of you will face consequences.”

Constantine growled and quickly disappeared with his friends, as Peter helped me get back on my feet. I wanted to thank Terric, but he left as fast as he had appeared. Bruised but relieved we returned to the cottage with the other recruits. I laid out a thin cushioning layer of hay over the hard ground and rolled myself into two of the blankets my parents had given me. All this preparation barely fought the bitter cold that ran down my spine and bit my skin.

It was utterly uncomfortable but wonderful at the same time. After a day of getting beaten up, I relished the luxury of just lying down and stretching my muscles. In no time I had dozed off to sleep.

A sudden whisper in my ear wakened me. Katrina’s soft sweet voice repeated my name over and over. I got up from my bed and opened the door of the blacksmith shop. Blazing lights blinded my eyes. As the image adjusted to the light, horror became clear. The whole town was in flames. Men and women lay dead in the streets. There was nobody but me.

The voice came again, “Adam.”

I turned around. Katrina stood in the middle of the street. She was bleeding, her body tortured, and her wrists roughed up from the chains that dangled down her sides. Her hair was messy and caught up in the blood that stained her beautiful face.

The cries grew more painful, “Adam!” Tears rolled down her face as they did on mine.

I ran towards her, with every step seemingly distancing myself more from her. Her screams grew more vehement. I had almost reached her and was ready to wrap her in my arms.

Her body lit up in flames. Her screams deafened my ears and the visual blinded my eyes. The buildings around us began falling apart. The world crumbled to pieces. I knelt on the vacant street watching with tears in my eyes as everything vanished into plain nothingness.

At last it was all gone, and I sat in what appeared to be a white room. A white door with a silver knob was the only thing that stood out. As my eyes fixed on the door, the room turned into a cave. The door was still there but a new texture covered my surroundings. With careful steps I approached the door. Collecting all my strength I lifted a heavy blockade that protected its lock, and unbolted the door. It was the only way I could go, yet I was not sure if going forward was any better than staying. I looked around. A trail of blood marked what lay behind me, yet uncertainty awaited me behind the door. With trembling hands I twisted the knob. Bright lights escaped the cracks of the slowly opening door. The cave illuminated for a moment with a fascinating sparkle, before turning even darker than before. A black substance like the darkest smog, rushed towards–even through–me. With every second a bit of the light vanished. The dark force pushed me to the ground and drowned me in weakness. Fatigue spread throughout my body, making it hard for me to keep my eyes open. A faint light appeared in the far distance beyond the door. I tried to reach for it but passed out into the oppressing darkness.

I begged for air. My heart was racing. Sitting upright I found myself in the midst of the cottage surrounded by sleeping recruits. It was all a dream. My heart began to beat in its regular rhythm but my mind was still caught in the distressful images of my nightmare. I clenched the eagle necklace in my right fist and laid back down.

The air and the ground were freezing, forbidding me to close my eyes. Beyond the physical hardships, my senses were troubled by what I had just seen. While it appeared to be a dream it was more real than most of the things I had experienced this past year.

After a sleepless hour, I went out for a walk. Leaving the cottage I found only the night-watch up and awake. One of them advised me to stay close to the outer wall in sight of the guards, just to be safe.

I climbed up the ladder of the palisade–the feared and praised outer wall that separated our sleeping refuge from the outside world. The view was rather underwhelming as the vast darkness consumed everything but the few campfires lit by guards that decided to stay outside. The bitter cold that reigned already now in November was bound to grow worse once the snow would break out.

“Can’t sleep?” asked Terric who stood just a few yards away gazing into the night sky.

“Nightmares,” I answered, “I saw the city and my girlfriend going up in flames.”

“Not the worst I’ve seen,” he commented with a dark chuckle, “You and that girl have a kid?”

“No, unlike most I wanted to wait,” I said. “I want to raise my son, and not return to see an estranged ten year old.”

“Well, you don’t always have the choice of returning. Life sometimes takes unsuspected turns and nothing goes as planned. Should have done it while you could,” he said. “Well, I’m not going to make you feel any worse. I saw you were in a fight today, almost got yourself killed there.”

I could feel myself turn red at the possibly worst first impression I had made that day on the commander. “I never thanked you for stepping in.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. I was just enforcing the rules.” He added with a grin, “But let me tell you, getting into a fight the first day takes a hell of a big mouth. I am surprised you made it eighteen years with that attitude.”

Even at this time he wore his full armor. A pelt of what looked like a wolf covered his bulky shoulders, and a broad long two hand sword was placed on his back. His eyes were alert and yet an absent glimmer was in them as he observed the stars in such a tranquil manner. “I never caught your name,” he said.

“I am Adam.”

“Tell me Adam,” he looked at me, “what do we live for?”

“To live,” I said surprised by the need for a purpose.

“Why? Are our breaths, our survival, and our mere reproduction all that we are good for? What makes us different from the animals that graze on the lawn? How can such an animalistic purpose give us the right to conquer and control the world? We live and we die, just like the paling star that disappears in the sky.”

I thought about his words for a while until I broke the silence, “I once asked the Inquisitor a similar question. Now thinking about it I believe that the purpose of our lives is to find a purpose.”

Terric made a grunt and tensed his face as if he were physically thinking about what I just said.

“There isn’t one purpose, one measure, for us all to live by. The only purpose we share is that we all seek a purpose within our life,” my glance caught Orion, “some find it young, some find it in their dying moments. For some it might be both. It all goes back to how we impact the world around us: Our loved ones, the stranger on the street, and the child of the future that opens a history book to our decade. The star only pales if you let it. My brother died not long ago, but his story lives on. When I was a little boy he would point to the stars, show me Orion, and tell me that he will protect me even when he is no longer around. Every time I see the stars I think of him. He never had children, he never reached his 30th birthday, yet his existence affects my very nature and my every move. Through me he lives on.”

Terric sighed and bowed his head, “You seem to have it all figured out for such a young man like yourself. Don’t tell anyone this, but as a military man I believe leadership should be based on skill, strength and wisdom, not on some antique form of tradition. We could don’t have faith in the Inquisitor?” I use a bright young mind like yours to lead us.”

Surprised and amazed I glanced over at Terric. “You asked him. I wanted to agree with him, yet was afraid that this was all a test of my loyalty and allegiance. “How do you know that your words do not offend me? My creed would oblige me to accuse you of sacrilege.”

“If you still had faith in the Inquisitor or God, you would not be up here pondering about life. You would have stayed in the cottage and prayed for the demons to stop taunting your soul,” he said.

“It appears to me that you are not praying either,” I remarked.

“To answer your question, I have faith in the Inquisitor to please a crowd and enchant them with illusions. However I don’t have faith in him aiding our survival any longer. People worship the Inquisition yet abhor the Guard. Resources enter gates under the flag of the Inquisition while the dead bodies of the sons of the city wear the armor and insignia of the Grey Guard. If it weren’t for his poisonous manipulation, the Guard would long be in control.” As he continued, his words filled with passion like the crescendo of a bard’s song, “We are the invisible hands that sow the seeds that make your daily bread. We chop the wood that forms the bed on which you sleep at night. We defend those walls that protect you as you stroll across the marketplace. But people will never see us for what we truly are. Every young man fears to join us, and every twenty-eight year old is ready to forget the past ten years of his life. What we need is not antipathy, but support to form a stronger Guard. I see the bitter truth every day, and it is not getting any rosier. Quite contrary, unless things out here start to calm down, our productions won’t be able to support the city much longer.”